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THE PAST OF MODNT MORRIS 



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A DISCOURSE 

BY 

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A DISCOURSE 



EMBODYING FACTS CONNECTED "WITH THE 



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MOUNT MORRIS, 



DELIVERED AT THE 



DEDICATION 



PRESBYTElilAN CHURCH EDIFICE, 



FEBRUARY 1, 1855. 



J. T. NORTON, PRINTER, REPUBLICAN OFFICE, GENESKO. 
1855. 



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Mount Morris, Feb. 2, ISfo. 
Ref. D. Chichester — Sir: The undersigned, in behalf of many citizens of Mount 
Morris, tal<e pleasure in expressing to you the gratification afforded tliem in listening to 
the interesting discourse delivered by you on the occasion of the dedication of the Presby- 
terian church recently built in this village. 

Believing that it embodies facts and rcminisences connected with the early settlement, 
growth and religious history of the place deserving a more permanent record, we beg leave 
to request of you a copy for publication. 

Very respctfully, yours, &c., 

SAM'L J. MILLS, 
R. P. WISNER. 
JOHN R.MURRAY, 
HIRAM P. MILLS, 
G. W. BARNEY, 
GEO. S. WIIITNEY. 



To S. J. Mills, R. P. Wisxer, and otliers— 

Gentlemen — I am gratified at the interest expressed by yourselves and others, in my 
discourse, delivered on Thursday last; and in compliance with your obliging request, 
present it for publication. 

You are aware that it was prepared for tlie evening of that day, and was delivered at the 
dedication only on account of the absence of Rev. Dr. Chester of Buffalo, the preacher 
expected on that occasion. 

With high esteem , yours truly, 

Febbcary 3, 1855. D. CHTCnESTER. 



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DISCOURSE. 



Job, 8, 8. — " Enquire, I pray thee, of tlie former afre." 

We have met, to-day, my hearers, and dedicated this lioiise of 
worship. We have engaged in these interesting services with 
various emotions ; we are in a neio edifice. This pulpit, and these 
shps, and galleries, and windows, and walls and lamps are new; 
they have yet upon our minds all the charm of novelty — and, it is 
in the fresh light of this new scene, that I propose to contemplate 
the past. 

The old is always seen in the most vivid Hght, when in contrast 
with the new — and, by choosing this time and place to paint the 
past of this community, I have all the advantages of a striking light 
for my picture. In the sketch to be drawn, I would first direct the 
eye of my audience to the dim objects which lie in the dark and 
far oflf back-ground. 

Go back with me sixty-five years, to the period 1790, and im- 
agine yourselves standing upon the site of this village. Most of 
the tall forest trees on this spot, have been burnt down by the 
Indians. Here and there, stands one, spreading out its dead and 
blackened limbs — around is a thick undergrowth of oak saplings, 
and, scattered through these openings, appear a few Indian wigwams. 
In the place of roads, are some hard beaten paths, leading to the 
difierent dwellings. This is the site of Mt. Morris. As you look 
off to the norths as you turn to the rising ground on the iuest, as 
you face the south, you are met on each side by an unbroken 
forest; but, as you turn to the east, broad and beautiful bottom- 
lands are at your feet, as treeless, and shrubless then as at this day. 
"My father," says an early resident, "rode over these flats at that 
time, upon a large horse, and he remarked that the grass was so high 



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DISCOURSE. 



that lie could tie it over the neck of the animal." The truth of his 
statement will not be doubted by any who know the fertility of the 
land. Standing amidst tliis undergrowth of oak, with this plain 
stretching below at your feet, and the rising ground on the other 
sides, appearing one unbroken forest, turn your steps to the north ; 
following an Indian path, you cross a ravine, and draw near the 
edge of that bluft", where now, on the plain above, is the residence of 
Hon. George Hastings — and here, almost on the very site of his 
residence, (probably between his house and barn,) you find a long, log 
house, the residence of Ebenezer Allen. However uncouth the 
appearance of the dwelling, the owner has certainly shown an eye 
for the beautiful in the selection of this locality. If this man had 
lived to the present day, and retained a fortieth part of his land, his 
fortune would have been princely. A short time pi-evious to his 
residence here, Allen built a mill where Rochester now stands, and 
owned much of the site of that city. When residing here, a tract 
of four miles, embracing this village and country around, was liis 
property, 

Ebenezer Allen was a had man. He had courage, talent and 
energy, was remarkable for accomplishing his ends, knew how to 
please, and had great influence over the Indians ; but he was guilty 
of many crimes. His hands were stained with the blood of the 
innocent. 

As white settlements increased, "Indian Allen" fled from those 
whose vengeance he had provoked. His childi-en hold not a foot of 
his land, and the name which seemed destined always to live asso- 
ciated with these grounds, (called, as they were, "Allen's Hill,") has 
been dropped for another. The honor was taken from him who was 
a cui-se and a scourge to his race, and given to that great benefactor 
of his country, Robert Morris. In Allen's history it is verified that 
"the name of the wicked shall rot." "Though a sinner," says the 
wise man, "do evil an hundred times, and his days be prolonged, 
yet surely I know that it shall be well with them that fear God, 
who fear before him. But it shall not be well with the wicked, 



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DISCOURSE. "^ 

neith^T^ITi^i^d^l^days, which are as a shadow, because he 
feareth not before God." 

Let us travel from this residence of Allen, which combined a 
store, a tavern, and a harem, and pass a little farther to the north. 
Entering the woods, we ascend, and, in less than half a mile, reach 
a level. Turning to the right, we emerge from the forest, and stand 
upon the brow of a steep declivity— at our back is a dense forest— 
nov.' the grounds and residence of John R. ISIurray, Es(^., and 
adorned with the beauty which wealth and taste can give. 

But, before us, how magnificent the view ! Some hundred feet 
below, these broad and noble plains, as level as a lake, stretch off for 
miles to the north, and east, and south. At the right, and between 
high banks, enters the Genesee, and as this stream winds its way 
through the plain, shining afar off, in the sun, like a glittering ser- 
pent, It is met by the slow Canaseraga, coming in from the south, 
and these two streams, uniting their waters in the midst of this 
plain, move noiselessly on. But not through an unbroken solitude, 
for, in sight, are Indian villages. Across the river, to the left, not 
a mile from where it entere the plain, is Squaw hj Hill. On a little 
forthcr, where now stands Cuylerville, is Little Beard, snd still far- 
thei-. Big Tree— and then turning round to the south, is seen Allen's 
Hill Thus, the smoke is seen ascending from four Indian villages, 
and, at other points, are signs of human habitations. 

These natives of the forests have dwelt upon the bordei-s of this 
valley for ages; sometimes, in far greater numbers than at this period; 
so the large mounds which have been found, would indicate. Little 
is now left besides some old huts and mouldering bones to mark that 
such a people here dwelt, if we except some of those fine Indian 
names given to different localities and streams. These will never be 
elianged- God designs that this departed peo])le shall live in the 
minds of coming generations, by this homage paid to the rich melody 
of their language. 

Before we pass on from this scene of beauty and magnificence, let 
us ask, "Why has God spread out these scenes around usT' Why 



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DISCOURSE. 

has be here moulded the eaiih iuto such glorioite forms, and clothed 
those forms with such magnificent drapery ? Is it that those who dwell 
among these beauties shall have an e3'e merely to the utility of the 
land, thinking only of the grain it will produce, or the price it will 
bring? Is it noi that these works may speak of Him? Are not 
these His thoughts ? Do they not sing His praise ? Is there not in 
this silence and repose, a strain, loud, majestic, holy, and, one never 
to cease, till " the earth, and the works therein, shall be burned 
up." A woik of art — a temple, like this, within whose walls we 
meet, speaks of God, but, there is no monument of man's skill and 
power that can so bi'ing a ])\o\\s soul into the presence of the Deity, 
as can these magnificent forms in the great temple of Nature. 

Passing on from this scene, let us move ferthei- to the north, de- 
scend from the heights, enter the valley, cross the river, and turn to 
the west. We are in a dense forest, atid are ascending the river on 
the north side — the stream runs through perpendicular clifts, which 
grow higher for two or three miles as we ascend — the scene, all along, 
increasing in grandeur and beauty. We look, now and then, from the 
dizzy heights and see the river, like a small creek, moving slowly on — 
the trees upon the opposite shore are seen as bushes. Yon throw 
a stone that you think will reach them, and it seems to turn in 
and hide itself under the bank at your feet. It reminds you of the 
great English bai'd's description of Dover clifts : 

* • * " How feftrfiil 
And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low ! 

The crows and daws that wing the ilrkl-way air, 
Show scarce so gross as beetles. 

* * e '} 

The fishermen that walk npon the Leftch, 
Appear liUe mice ; * * 

* * The murmuring siirp:e 
Tiiat on the nnnnmbered idle pebb)ts chafes, 
Cannot be heard so high." 

We fi;'.low along these banks, tAvo or three miles farther, and 
reach a point where they suddenly recede from the river, leaving a 
spot of rich bottom-land below. The Indians name this, Gardeau. 
It is the home of the " White Woman," This remarkable pei-son is 
before you. She has light hair, fair complexion, regular features, and 
a fonn little below the medium size, symmetrical and indicating much 






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strength and power of endurance. Ten years previous to this, in the 
fall of the year, she had come from Ohio on foot, with an infant on 
her back, proving what the women of her own race can endure, with 
the physical training of the Indians, The army of Sullivan had just 
before driven the Indians from the country, and destroyed their 
crops. This little spot called Gardeau was overlooked — -here alone, 
could she find food. And, was it not chiefly for her, that this spot 
was spared ? She was a chosen vessel — 'Ordained to life, and God 
remembers His hidden ones. 

Let us glance at her histoir, as it strikingly illustrates a law 
in the kingdom of grace. She was born upon the ocean. Her pa- 
rents came to this country from England, in 1742, and settled in 
the beautiful valley of Wyoming, in Pennsylvania. At ten yeare 
of age, she was captured by the Indians, and forever separated 
from her friends. Her mother was pemiitted to speak a parting 
word. " Do not," says that mother, " forget yom- own language, and 
never fail to repeat your catechism and the Lord's prayer, every 
morning and evening while you live." This she promised to do — 
she then kissed her mother, and they parted foi'ever. The seed 
sown was buried deep in the heart of that child, but not destroyed. 
For a time, she remembered the promise made to her mother, but, 
after a while, forgot it, and became in all her habits, an Indian. 
Years rolled on, and she returned from the west, and again met 
those of her own race who sought to instruct her in the Christian 
faith — but, to no purpose. Her mind seemed not at all disposed to 
receive the truth. " The Indians' religion," said she, "is good enough 
for me, and I desire no chanfje." She left Gardeau, and settled with 
her adopted people on the Buftalo reservation, and there, one morn- 
ing, when at the age of ninetij years, she sent a messenger to the 
missionaries, asking them to visit her. "Oh," says she to them, "I 
have forgotten liow to pray. My mother taught me, and told me 
to remember this, though I should forget all things else" — and then 
she exclaimed, "Oh, God, have mercy upon me I" The divine truth 
which her mother had taught her, had been buried in her heart for 
eighty years — it had stood the shock of an hundred calamities — 



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DISCOURSE. 




it had lived amid tlie chills and darkness of a pagan faith. Eighty 
yeai-s had rolled away since her mother breathed the last prayer 
over her — and, now, a still, small voice of the Spirit comes again, 
and she repeats the prayei', '' Our Father which art in heaven.'' As 
she prayed, a now light overs}>read her feature>i, copious tears were 
shed, and her pag.ui associates who stood around, wept in sympathy, 
at her new found joy. What an encouraging lesson is this! How 
plainly it is here taught that 

" Tlioufrli seed lie buried lonp; in dust, 

It sha'n't deceive the hope ; 
The precious grain shall ne'er be lost, 

For grace ensures the crop." 

We will now slowly lea\-e the distance and approach the middle- 
gronnd of our picture. 

Seven years have passed away, and the site of our village has but 
little changed. We will now take another direction. We descend 
into the valley, move eastward, turn to the north, and have reached 
the point now known as the half-way house between Geneseo and 
Mt. Morris. We have traveled three miles, and, if in the fall of the 
year, over a road far different from the present one. And, Avhat is here ? 
A wilderness ? or, a farm just beginning to be reclaimed from the for- 
est ? We might infer this to be the condition of this quiet spot, sixty 
yeai-s ago. But, no. Here is the site of Williamsburg — here are two 
stores, a large tavern, and about thirty houses. Here a Presbyterian 
church has been organized. When, in the year 1 794, Wm. and James 
Wadsworth arrived in Geneseo, (then Big Tree,) Williamsburg was 
a village of two yeai-s groAvth. Half a century ago, this quiet spot 
was full of bustle and acti-^ity. Hei'e, each year, persons would as- 
semble from all these border-lands, to attend the great fair and horse 
race. Now, how changed ! Little did Mr. Williamson, that enter- 
prising Scotchman, anticipate that his thriving village was so soon 
to become extinct — that, gradually, the inhabitants would scatter, 
the houses disappeai', and e\"ery vestig-e that a village had there 
stood, be removed. 

As }ou now pass by the spot, on a plank road, (a reaUty^ not 
among the dreams of our fathers,) you see, a little to the east, a 



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11 



grave-yard thickly studded with stones. There sleeps a village, 
Williamsburg was once the largest village for thirty miles around. 
The ardent Mr. Williamson painted the future of this country with 
glowing enthasiasm. He said, in a letter to his friends, "The pro- 
gress of settlement is so rapid, that you and myself may very 
probably see the day when we can apply these lines to the Genesee 
country : 

" Here happy millions their own lands possess. 
No tji'uiic awes them, nor no lords oppress." 

"Many times," he writes, "did I break out in an enthusiastic 
frenzy, anticipating the probable situation of this wilderness, twenty 
years hence. All that reason can ask, may bo obtained by the indus- 
trious hand ; the only danger to be feared, is, that luxuries will flow 
too cheap." And, to show what these expectations were, when 
brought out, more in detail, hear another extract from the same 
letter : " On this Genesee river, a great many farms are laying out ; 
sixty-five miles from its mouth, is a town marked out by the name 
of Williamsburg, and will, in all probability, be a place of much 
trade ; in the present situation of things, it is remote, when consid- 
ered in a commercial point of view ; but, should the fort of Oswego 
be given up, and the lock navigation be completed, there ivill not be 
a carrying place between New York and Williamsburg.^' 

The organization of a Presbyterian church at this settlement, was 
mentioned. Little more is known to the speaker than the fact, and 
that the Rev, Mr, Thatcher was the minister, and that the name of 
one elder was John Ewart, 

In the year 1V97, the Rev. Samuel Mills came to Williamsburg — 
formerly a Presbyterian minister, but then belonging to the Bap- 
tist denomination. He delivered the first sermon that was ever 
preached in Mt. Morris. He resided many years in these parts, de- 
voting much of his time to preaching in different localities. His 
son. Gen. Wm. A. Mills, came the year after, in '98, to Mt. Morris. 
It was literally coming to live among the Indians, whose language he 
soon acquired, and spoke with quite as much fluency as his own. 
The log dwelling which he erected, and which was for many yeai-s 
his home, stood upon a beautiful site, commanding a noble view of 
the valley, now the residence of his son, Samuel J. Mills, Esq. 



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DISCOURSE. 



For the first ten or fifteen years of the settlement of Mt. Morris, 
there were but very few who took up their residence here. I find 
among those wlio came before the year 1810, the names of Mills, 
Satterlee, Baldwin, Solomon, Eaton, Wilson, Demon, Houselander, 
Holland, Stanley and Chappell. One or two of these are still among 
the living — but most, are not. Some of my hearers knew all these 
pei-sons, and, most who are present, recognize these names as belong- 
ing to families that still reside among us. 

Let us come forward to the picture of Mt. Morris in 1813. "We 
will enter on what is now the plank road across the flats. Ascend- 
ing the hill, we pass what is now Beach's Temperance House. 
There stands the frame dwelling of widow Baldwin — on the corner 
opposite, towards the north, is the frame dwelling of Capt. Baldwin 
— going a little farther, we are near the frame residence of deacon 
Jesse Stanley, now the site of the residence of James R. Bond, Es<|. 
In reaching this point, we pass the school-house, a few rods to the 
left — that building which is so plainly pictured to the minds of some 
of this audience — around which so many associations of early days 
cluster. Its unpainted and mutilated seats, and dingy walls, bring 
with them pleasing thoughts, for they are fresh, strong impressions 
of early days. This building is not seen from the road, for, though 
we stand in front of what is known as Dean's brick store, and look 
no farther than what was lately the law office of R. P. Wisner, Esq., yet 
the oak bushes and saplings completely conceal it from view. A 
little farther on, and we are opposite the site of this church building. 
On the other side of the road stands the old block-house, into which 
all the inhabitants fled, on one occasion, the year before, for fear of 
a coming army of British and Indians. A few rods farther, and on 
the north side of the road, is the frame dwelling of Mark Hopkins, 
Esq., on the site of the residence of the late David A. Miller, Esq. 
We ascend, and from Prospect Hill look over the village, and we 
can count the four framed dwellings just mentioned, and no more. 
These, with twenty-two log houses, constitute the Mt. Morris of 1813. 
The eye can rest upon two streets — the one we have passed over, 
coming from the Viilley, passi ng the site of this church edifice, turn- 
ing to the left, and winding np the hill towards Nunda, and the 




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DISCOURSE. 




other running through the place noilh and south, being what is now 
Main street. These two streets, or roads, the sides of which are well 
lined with oak shrubs and sajiling-s, are the only streets of the village. 
Here is now and then a remaining tree of the forest, and plenty of 
undergrowth. On every side, except that of the valley, is a dark 
forest, the impressions upon which, by the woodman's axe, are, as yet, 
hardly perceptible. 

Going towaids Nunda, we pass through an unbroken forest for 
three and a half miles — we then reach a solitaiy dwelling — that of 
Mr. Houselander — and for six miles beyond that (where now is a 
succession of fine farms, with their neatly painted dwellings,) is an 
unbroken forest. 

I next briefly notice the sickness of Mt. Morris, in its early settle- 
ment. There is a class of diseases peculiar to new localities. The 
breakino- up of a vii-giu soil, and the clearing away of woods, sets 
free certain gases which are prejudicial to health — a soil like that of 
this rich valley, could not be disturbed from its long repose, without ' 
throwing upon the atmosphere much that was unfriendly to 
life — and, if these early settlei-s found Mt. Morris a spot to be 
marked for its fertility and beauty, they found it, also, a place to 
to be remembered for its fevers. The turning up the soil, and clear- 
ing away the forest, wej-e not the only causes of sickness. On the 
edge of the valley that borders our village was a strip of low, marshy 
gi'ound. Those who lived here thirty years ago, well remember it 
as being bridged by a corduroy road. The diaining of this wet 
land by the mill-race, cut from the river to the Canaseraga, has 
operated, with other causes, to promote the health of the village. 
There was a fever common to this region, known as the Genesee 
fever, which prevented the rapid immigration there would other- 
wise have been. Nearly all the first settlers were attacked, and 
many fell as its victims. The disease generally took a severe hold 
at first, assuming afterwards a slow, typhoid form, and, often, when 
there was a recovery, leaving the constitution permanently impaired. 
In this is explained why so very few of the early settlei^s are now 
found among us. 




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Father Hudson, who was a Methodist circuit preacher in this region, 
in an early day, speaks, in his autobiography, of an epidemic that 
raged in Geneseo in 1812, and mentions tliat Mt. Morris largely 
shared in its ravages, and tliat he was frequently called here to 
attend funei'als. "My recollections," he says, "of those times and 
events, are naturally associated with the names of deacons Stanley 
and Beach, who, together with Col. Hopkins and Gen. Mills, were 
always forward and ready to render assistance in all cases of distress 
and emei'gency." 

At latur periods, epidemics have raged with great power. Many 
stones in our grave-yard are marked with the date of 1817— a me- 
morable year— one that brought sorrow into many a dwellino-.— 
Hardly a family in the place escaped sickness--and, one family, (a 
member of which told me of the ravages of the disease,) lost four 
of its members. The year 1826 is noted for the prevalence of 
a destructive dysentery. The mortality was principally among 
children. Dr. Lyman was then pastor of the Presbyterian church— 
his venerable widow who now lives among us, said to me, "I well 
recollect counting up, at tlie time, how many funerals my husband 
attended within two weeks. There were twenty, mostly of children." 
I can say, in contrast with this fact thus given, that in the four years 
I have resided in Mt. Morris, I have not attended the funeivals of 
twenty children. Few places can be found more free from sickness 
than this has been for the last few years. 

We come now to speak of the early religious character of Mt. 
Morris. Until the year 1814 there was no religious society in the 
place. Deacon Jesse Stanley, who came about 1809, in writing to 
his friends in Connecticut, said that he thanked the Lord that he 
had found one man in Mt. Morris who loved his Savior. He referred 
to Mr. Chappell, the father of Mrs. Deacon Weeks. Soon aftei- this, 
going to Connecticut for his family and returning, he had to write 
that that one man was dead, and that he was left alone. About 
this time Mrs. Duncan, a pious Methodist woman, died, and no one 
could be found to offer prayer at the funeral. Such incidents help 



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15 



to show what trials Christians who came in had to meet, a.s well as 
to reveal the moral condition of the place. 

The two prevailing sins of those days were intemperance and sab- 
bath-breaking. Not long after this time the smoke of five dis- 
tilleries might be seen ascending from this town, and most of 
them in sight of the village — and, be it remembered, the population 
was very small compared with the present. Ardent spirits, in those 
days, if not the lai-gest article of consumption, was certainly the 
most important article of export. This was years before the great 
temperance reform, and good men engaged in the manufacture of, 
and traffic in, alcohol. The wonder is, not that so many were des- 
troyed by it, but that so many escaped. To the poor Indian it 
proved a scourge more destructive thnn the ])lague. How sad a 
picture to see an Indian with all the refinement of feeling and native 
politeness of "Tall Chief," bowing to the power of this destroj'er. 
There were some noble spirits among those Senecas — but rarely has 
one been found who could resist the power of this enemy. 

On the sabbath, white people would come from Moscow and other 
places around, and Indians from Squaw ky Hill would here congregate 
and spend this holy day in drinking, wrestling, shooting, horse-racing 
and the like. It is sad to mention that Mount Morris, in its 
moral condition, was not an exception to other new settlements in 
the valley. The character of other towns in this vicinity was much 
the same. 

The first Baptist minister who preached in Mt. Morri?;, was, (as 
has been mentioned,) Rev, Samuel Mills. The first Presbyterian 
minister, was the Rev. Robert Hubbard. 

The preachers who most frequently visited Mt. Morris, were from 
amons: the Methodists — amono- whom occur the names of Jesse Lee, 
and John B. Hudson. The Methodists are, in Christ's church, as the 
light-infantry of an army. They are in the fore ranks — moving in 
scouting bamls, and penetrating where the main body of the forces 
do not go. These soldiers battling for the Lord Avill follow close on 
to the footsteps of the hardy pioneer — are first to find men in the 



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to the solitary, and him who hath no helper. AdmimLle is the 
system, which the great Wesley, under God, devised to meet the 
Avants of the ..parse and scattered people of border lands. May this 
system never cease its efficacy, till the dark and benighted portions 
of the earth are filled with the glorious light of the gospel. 

Before 1810 a small Methodist class was formed in^this settlement, 
^vh.ch soon disappeared from deaths, removals, and other causes, and 
yet, the place was visited at stated times by preachers of this order. 

must not, m this place, omit to mention an effl.rt made to evan- 
gehze the Indians. About the year 1813, Rev. Daniel D. Buttrick 
came to tlus section with a design of laboring a. a missionary among 
the LKhans near this village, if the way seemed opened. He made 
some efforts fur them, but, for some reason, soon al>andoned his plan 
and spent his days as a missionary among the Cherokees. In an 
effort to evangelize Indians, situated as these Senecas near this 
Village were, one had more than the vices of paganism to contend 
With .ALnghng, as they did, with the floating population of white 
people, attempts for their reform were most discouraging. 

It was in the year 1814 that the Presbyterian church^of Mt. Morris 
was organized. On the 29th of April of that year, the following 
fourteen mdn.duals n.et in the school house, and were formed into a 
church :-Jesse Stanley, Jonathan Beach, Luther Parker, Enos Bald- 
wm, Abraham Camp, Luman Stanley, Russel Sheldon, Almira 

p'f 'm ^•"^^""■^^' ^^■■-«- ^-•^-'•' Sarah Baldwin, Mary Camp, 
Pa ty- M Stanley, and Clarissa Sheldon^all of whom except the 
^t wo have now gone to their long home. There was one who 
should not be forgotten, although not present at this organization. I 
speak of Susannah, the wife of Cxen. Mills. She wa.^for years .1 
most the only christian in Mt. Morris-and, while finding so little 
christian sympathy, lived a devoted life. She was liberal in her 
views, had a heart f nil of charity, and is remembered by all as one 
ot marked and uniform piety. 

In the winter following the organization of this church, a revival 
^^^l^^^^^^he^^ that occmred in this village. Rev. 






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Mr. Wlieelock wjis their minister. He said tliat lie did not, at the 
time, anticipate the work, nor was he aware of the feehug there was 
in the community, until, one day, in passing by a hay stack, he 
overheard some voices in prayer. He stepped around, and there 
found some boys hokling a prayer meeting. It seemed that the 
spirit of God had been moving upon their hearts, and they had met 
together to pray. This sight encouraged his own heart, lie felt that 
the Lord had indeed visited them, and he engaged with greater 
earnestness in his work. The church received a comparatively large 
accession at that time — for about thirty persons were added, some of 
whom are still with us. The next re\ ival occurred about seven years 
after, under the ministry of Rev. Bartholomew F. Pratt, at which 
time about eighty persons united with the church. A fact to be 
remembered in this revival, is this : of a bible class of about forty 
members, all but four made a profession of religion. God will use 
His word as the instrumentality for saving men, and where persons 
can be induced to engage in a diligent study of that word, there is 
great reason to hope and beUeve that the fruits will appear in their 
salvation. 

As we follow along the history of this church, we find that there 
were other times of religious awakening. The next, of which I 
speak, was in 1833, while Rev. George Elliot was pastor. During 
this revival, meetings were held conjointly with the Methodists in 
their church, which had just been completed. It was in the year 
1831 that the present society of the Methodist Episcopal church 
was organized and their present house of worship was completed the 
following year, at which time there was a powerful work of grace, 
before alluded to, which in its influence pervaded the whole commu- 
nity. At this time there were large accessions to the ISIethodist 
church and a number added to the Presbyterian, the only two chur- 
ches in the village. 

About this period, different causes were operating to produce im- 
provement in the place. As the fruits of these revivals, there was 
less intempei-ance, a belter observance of the sabbath, a larger 
attendance on the preaching of the word; and an increasing interest 



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in sabbath -scbools, in the cause of education, and the Hke. Then, 
also, Ihe village began to grow more rapidl}'. The cutting of the 
race gave milling privileges which had not before been possessed. 
The first rafill was erected the same year that the fii-st edifice of the 
Presbyterian church was completed — which was in the beginning 
of 1832. Eight years afterwards, the Genesee Valley canal was 
completed to Mt. Morris. It was between these two periods, mark- 
ed by an increase of business and j^opulation in the place, that the 
other churches were formed. 

The Protestant Episcopal church was organized in the spring of 
1833, the Rev. Thomas Meacham presiding — the first wardens 
being Jesse Clute, Nehemiah Barlow and David A. Miller. The 
vestrymen were John W. Montross, W. M. Hinman, Phineas Canfield, 
Stephen Summers, C. B. Stout, James J, S. Heald, and Hiram Hunt. 

Six years after, in 1839, the Baptist society was constituted. 
Among its founders, I find the names of Dr. Ebenezer Childs, Ben- 
jamin Bills, Deacon John Burt, Henrj' Turner, Asahel Norton and 
Philo MUls. 

A few words concerning church edifices — and in this connection, I 
would speak of that school-house, for a long time the only public 
room for holding religious services. This allusion brings it to the 
minds of many of my hearers, as it stood forty years ago — with its 
unpainted seats, its swing partition, made to meet the double 
wants of school and church — its fire-place at each end, and its box 
pulpit in the middle. Allen Ayrault, William A. Mills and Jes- 
se Stanley assisted in putting seats in this school-house, for the 
purpose of holding meetings, about the year 1815. "They were 
constructed with high wooden backs, and they felt prouder," says 
the survivor, Hon. Allen Ayrault, "with the accommodations thus 
afforded, than many would on the completion of the most costly 
church edifice." 

The first Presbyterian church was dedicated January 1832. It 
stood where is now the orchard of Dr. Branch, back of his residence. 
Ten years aft,erwards it was removed a few rods to the south, front- 
ing State street, enlarged by an addition of twenty feet in length, 



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which made its dimension 84 by 44 feet, September 29, 1852, it 
was destroyed by fire. We to-day meet for the first time in the 
building erected to replace the one thus consumed. The dimensions 
of this brick edifice are 80 by 52 feet. Its site is a few rods north 
of the former one, the ground on which it stands being the gift of 
John R. Murray, Esq. 

The Methodist Episcopal church edifice was dedicated January 1, 
1833, the year that followed the building of the first Presbyterian 
house of worship. A few months later the Protestant Episcopal 
church dedicated their house of worship. In the year 1840, the 
Baptist society completed their house of worship. Some farther 
changes in church building are expected the present year, and our 
Episcopal brethren have in process of building, a new edifice which 
is to be elegant and tasteful, and truly an ornament to the place. 

I next come to enumerate the clergymen who have officiated in 
the different churches — not naming those of the Methodist, as their 
changes are systematically so frequent. 

The first name on the record of the Presbyterian church, is Rev. 
Mr. Wheelock — in 1814. Then follow Rev. Messrs. Silas Pratt, 
Elihu Mason, Bartholomew F. Pratt, Wm. layman, Clary, Bushnell, 
Wilcox, McMaster, Elliott, Goodrich, Van Buren, Hudson, Bulkley, 
Chichester. Messrs. Clary and Bushnell were each here but part of 
one year — some of the others for a year only — one of them as long 
as six years. The following are the names of the Episcopal clergy- 
men : Rev. Messrs. Atwater, Cooper, Van Rensselaer and Franklin. 
Of the Baptist — Elders Blakesley, Stone, Bacon, Sprague and Key- 
ser. The average time of the stay of the Presbyterian ministers has 
been about three years. Of the Episcopal, about five years. Of 
the Baptist, about three years. 

I hope no young man in this audience who contemplates entering 
the ministry, will be discouraged by statistics like these of ministerial 
changes. We know they tend to discouragement, proclaiming, as 
they do, that a minister's life, to a great extent, is a homeless one. 
We know they have had their influence in inducing some to leave 
the calling, as well as keeping many from entering upon it. Yet, 





such evils shoM not discourage, and will ^oTFthTie^ftT^ng 
in its reliance upon God. A soldier should know his work before he 
enlists, and not enter upon it, blind to its privations. Such obstacles 
will not dampen true corn-age, but will stimulate it. And, my youncr 
friend, if you can say, in the strength of God, "None of these thingt 
move me," and will buckle on the icliole armor of the Lord He will 
be with you in every battle, and your fight will ever be victorious. 
' In this sketch of the past, have we not found much to bric^hten 
our hopes for i\, future? Has not the moral, inteUectuaC and 
physical condition of this community, been steadily advancincr 3 Are 
there not in every direction, signs of progress? And, why should 
our hearts fail ? Why should we so view present evils, as to think 
they are not to be banished ? Are they more formidable than those 
that have already been removed? Let us not be deceived because 
the past appears in a dim and soft light, and not in the bright glare 
m which the present is seen. Past evils appeared as formklable to 
those who had to contend with them, as the present do to us. But 
evils have been overcome, changes for the better have been brought 
about-and have we not in this a pledge that changes for the better 
will continue to be made ? Most manifestly is God revealed in the 
past history of this viUage. He is seen in ite events. His design is 
evident in its changes, and if we take heart and go forward, He wiU 
help us. The cause is His, and He would say, Hope, Believe, Be 
btrong. There may be, my hearei^, a temporary re-action, but it 
must be seen that, on the whole, there is a steadv, uniform move- 
ment onward. Thus God plamly encourages u.s with the hope that 
our efforts for good will tell, if not now, in coming time. The in- 
fluence of those praying ones, who lived on this spot forty yeai^ ago, 
IS felt to this day-so will our influence be felt. Seed cast into 
a river disappears, but by and by it is thrown upon the shore, far 
down the stream, takes root and bears fmit. So of our eifort. for 
good-because results are not seen now, is no proof that they are 
not to appear hereafter. 

FinaUy, this retrospect of the pa.t, proclaims to us the shortness 



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of our lives. It tells us to "do with our might what ovir hands find 
to do." It proclaims that our days are passing as a dream of the 
night. The voice of the past ever is, act with energy. Where are 
those who forty years ago united in the formation of this church ? 
All but two have passed into eternity. One, who was summoned 
away the last year, often said that he only wished to live to see this 
day — but the messenger could not wait. 

And, how long before xve shall be called hence ? This building 
may stand — another audience may assemble within its walls — after 
the beating of each heart now here, has ceased forever. What a 
call for the improvement of the passing hour ! There are many here 
to-night, who were in this place at an early day. Your thoughts, 
my friends, have this hour been busy with the past. Memory has 
brought 

" The light of other days around you, 

The hopes, the fears of by-gone years, 

The words of love then spoken ; 

The eyes that shone, now dimmed and gone." 

How sad the remembrance — how mournful the retrospect ! 

" You feel like one who treads alone, 
Some banquet hall deserted. 
Whose lights are fled, whose garlands dead, 
And all but he, departed." 

God has given us the past that we may improve the present. He 
would that we be up and doing, working with our might, living for 
eternity. We are embarked upon life's stream — a stream, my dying 
hearers, which is rolling on, and bearing us to a country where time 
is not measured by years. How many, as we have floated down the 
resistless current of the river, have disappeared by our side — we are 
following them, going to the same shore — with us the stream is 
widening, and soon the watei-s will become more rough and the 
winds will rise, revealing that our barks are nearing the wide and 
deep waters. Soon, in the twilight, forms will grow shadowy, the 
roar of coming waves will be heard, our barks will be gone, and we 
shall float out into the dai-k and boundless sea. 




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